Keep Sam Alive
by Michelle Knight 1188
Summary: Dean works hard every day to keep Sam alive--now it's your turn. You get to make the choices in this interactive story. Are you up for the challenge? Can YOU keep Sam alive?


**Sam's in danger—and this time it's **_**your **_**job to keep him safe. **

**The INSTRUCTIONS for this interactive adventure are simple: **

**Each time you come to the end of a chapter, follow the instructions given in bold. The choices you make will lead you down different paths toward several more choices and multiple possible endings. (There are 3 happy endings, 7 unhappy endings, and 18 possible choices you could make to reach them.) Just scroll down to reach the chapters as you are instructed, and remember—no cheating! Can YOU save Sam? **

**Good luck!**

**Chapter One**

"Where are we going, Dean?"

Dean pursed his lips and purposely looked away in defiance as he stared intently out of the windshield. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth, leaving grimy streaks where they didn't quite touch the glass.

"Dean." Sam said loudly, exasperated. "I think I deserve to know where we're going."

No answer, though Dean's eyes did glint for a moment—bitterness? Amusement? What could possibly be funny?

Sam changed tactics. "Look man. You've been driving like a maniac for hours, and I've sat here quietly. I haven't pressed you for information because one look at your face back at the hotel was enough for me to understand that something big is going on."

Dean glared out the windshield as though he needed to pay absolute attention to the road—which was straight and unobstructed. Sam wasn't fooled.

"Dean." Sam said firmly. "Who called you just before we left? What did they tell you?"

Dean gritted his teeth together and said nothing.

Sam sighed in exasperation and sat further back in his seat. "I'll wait." He said flatly. "You can't keep silent forever."

Dean flinched. His face twisted, showing real conflicted emotion for the first time since he had started driving. "Sammy…" he muttered, worry laced in the hushed tones of his voice. "It's not that I don't _want _to tell you…"

Sam turned to look at his brother, confused. "What do you—"

A small shape darted out across the road—right into the path of the Impala.

**If you think Dean should swerve to miss whatever is in the road, turn to Chapter 2.  
**

**OR**

**If you think Dean should slam on the breaks, turn to Chapter 3.**

**Chapter Two **

Dean swore and swerved wildly to the side, but they were too close. There were two distinct thuds as whatever they had hit was flattened underneath the tires. He twisted the wheel frantically to avoid driving off the road and he managed to bring the Impala screeching to a halt before it hit the guard rail. He breathed out hard, keeping his fingers tightly gripped on the steering wheel. "You okay, Sam?" he demanded, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Sam nodded, his heart beating fast in his chest. "Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

"Peachy." Dean muttered, forcing himself to let go of the wheel. "What do you think we hit?"

Sam hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, grabbing a flashlight on his way out.

"Woah, Sam. Wait—"

Sam got out of the car and glanced behind them, hoping against hope that they had hit an animal—he blinked in confusion. "There's nothing there." He muttered in disbelief.

Dean was beside him suddenly, staring with him at the empty road. "Impossible." He said, "It went under both sets of tires...it couldn't have just walked away."

"We need to find whatever it is." Sam said quickly, ignoring the fact that they kept saying 'it' instead of 'he' or 'she.' _We didn't kill anyone…_

"Yeah." Dean said, turning back to the Impala. He began to unlock the trunk.

Sam shook his head. "What are you doing? There's no time for that." He said, and then walked back on the road, toward where he knew they had hit something.

Dean ignored him and gathered up a few weapons. It never hurt to be prepared. "Did you find anything?"

Sam was staring down at the road in disbelief, a flashlight in hand. He swept the light up and down over the black top. "Dean…there isn't even any blood."

Warning bells went off in Dean's head. "Stay there, Sam." He said loudly, grabbing one more gun before he slammed the trunk closed.

Sam shone the flashlight toward the side of the road. The trees were thick and dark, and he couldn't see anything. He paused to wipe his wet bangs out of his eyes and then walked closer, peering into the darkness. "Hello?" he said cautiously. _Please don't answer._ "Is anyone there?"

Dean caught up with him and silently handed him a shotgun. "The lack of blood has me suspicious." He muttered softly, all business. "Unless we hit a small running log there should have been blood all over that road."

"I know." Sam said. "We have the worst luck."

"What, you mean everyone doesn't happen to run into supernatural nightmares on the road?" Dean murmured, shaking his head in disgust. "We don't have time for this…" he said darkly, and stepped forward toward the side of the road.

Sam reached out and grabbed the back of his brother's jacket, stopping him. "Dean…what did you mean before? When we were driving? What are you so worried about, and why can't you tell me?"

Dean's face hardened and he shrugged off Sam's grip. "Not now, Sam."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You _will_ tell me, Dean."

"Let's go," Dean said instead, "We'll check it out, but if we don't find anything we're leaving." He walked forward into the trees.

Sam paused for a moment, almost shaking in fury. He shook his head, trying to calm down, and followed his brother. _I can get the truth out of him later. _

He quickly met up with Dean and then slowed down to match his brother's stride. Barely ten yards into the forest they came upon a path. Dean groaned. "Well, I guess this path cuts out any suspicion that this is nothing."

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Of course it's something, Dean. We hit something out there…something that didn't _bleed_. Unless of course you think we were hallucinating…at the same time."

Dean looked over as though he was going to make a sarcastic remark, but then gritted his teeth together and stepped out onto the path instead.

Sam sighed. Why was there always so much tension? He and Dean were never this way before…before…but that was it, wasn't it? That was the problem. Things were different now. _They _were different now. He squared his shoulders and stepped onto the path after Dean, but this time he trailed a few steps behind his brother.

They walked like that for a few minutes, silent, until Dean stopped.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"There's a split in the path." Dean said simply.

Sam peered around his brother and sighed. "This could never be easy, could it?"

"Nope." Dean said. "So…right or left?"

**If you think the boys should go right, go to Chapter 6**

**OR**

**If you think the boys should go left, go to Chapter 7**

**Chapter Three**

Dean slammed on the breaks, but it was too late—the car was never going to stop in time. "Shit!" Dean yelled. "Sam—"

The Impala careened into the guardrail with a sickening crunch—and broke through. Its momentum caused the car to flip over as it slid down a slope, and it stopped sliding with a brutal jerk as it slammed sideways into a large oak tree.

Silence.

Dean groaned softly, trying to clear his thudding head. "S-sam?" he muttered softly. His head felt like it was still spinning, and it wasn't helping that he was hanging upside down in his seat—wait, he was hanging upside down? "S-sammy?" he slurred again, urgently. He turned to look at his brother, hanging lifelessly from the passenger seat. "Sam." He said louder, his worry bringing him quickly back to awareness. His entire body _ached._ "Sam!"

Sam didn't even twitch. Dean took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Sam was _not dead_, and he needed to assess the situation calmly and…

He paused, a new scent making him cringe. _Was that gasoline? _

"Shit…" he moaned, and reached up to undo his seatbelt. "Shit, shit, _shit_—Sammy, wake up!" he pushed the release on his seatbelt and it released him instantly, dumping him headfirst onto the hard metal of the car roof. "Damn it!" he growled as sharp pains shot through his head. He heard something crunch beneath him and realized that he had fallen on broken glass. His eyes flicked toward the windshield and he saw that it was shattered.

He quickly maneuvered himself over the glass so that he could get a better look at his brother. It was too dark for him to see much of anything, so he reached out a shaky hand to feel for a pulse—and sighed in relief. "Thank God…"

"Hello."

Dean's head snapped up at the childlike voice that came from outside the car. "Who's there?" he demanded, peering through the darkness. He could make out the faint outline of a child just outside the windshield.

"Your car is on fire."

Dean sucked in a quick breath, his worries confirmed. "Yeah. Get away from here kid, bring back help." He demanded briskly, and turned back to his brother, unsure of what to do. He needed to move him, but until he woke up he would have no idea how bad his injuries were—

"He's going to _burn_."

Dean blinked, and glanced back up. The child was gone. "Great." He said flatly, "Ghost kids." He turned back to his brother, still torn by what to do—until he smelled the smoke. "Damn it!" he yelled angrily, and hurriedly pulled up on the lock and swung his door open.

He fell out of the car and landed in a heap on the forest floor—and instantly realized that he couldn't feel his left arm. It hung uselessly at his side. He coughed, and tasted blood.

Dean staggered to his feet and limped around to the other side of the Impala. The fingers of his right hand clasped around the handle of Sam's door—

**Face it—sometimes luck is the only thing that keeps Sam and Dean alive. Let's see how lucky **_**you**_** are.**

**If your favorite color is brown, yellow, blue, green, or pink, turn to Chapter 4.**

**OR**

**If your favorite color is purple, black, red, white, or orange, turn to Chapter 5.**

**Chapter Four **

Dean tugged on the handle. The door opened easily and he dropped down on his knees so that he could reach his brother. He had no idea how to get Sam down while he was unconscious without hurting him. "Sam." He said loudly, shaking his brother's shoulder urgently. "Sammy, you have to wake up." He risked a glance toward the front of the car—where the smoke seemed to be coming from—but he couldn't see any flames. Yet.

He shook Sam harder and was almost surprised when Sam jerked slightly under his hand. "Sam?" he said hopefully. Sam winced and opened his eyes a little. His gaze was unfocused. "Dean?" he slurred, confused.

"Sam. Listen to me." Dean said urgently. "The car is on fire. I have to get you out."

Sam blinked as though to clear his head. "Fire?"

"Yeah…we hit something and ended up on an off-road adventure, remember?"

"Mmmm…" Sam murmured, closing his eyes again.

"Oh no you don't, Sam." Dean said loudly, shaking him again. "We have to go." He hesitated for a moment and then reached around Sam in the car to undo his brother's seatbelt. Sam dropped like a deadweight to the car's ceiling and Dean strained to get his brother out of the car with his one good arm. "Damn, Sammy, you gained some serious weight while I was…away…" he muttered, somehow managing to get his brother out of the car.

"Dean…" Sam muttered, his eyes still closed.

"Yep, that's right." Dean said simply, peering down at Sam quickly to see if he had any obvious injuries. _I can't see anything wrong with him…_

"'s on fire?" Sam muttered.

"Yeah. And we've got to get away from it." Dean said, shaking him again to try to wake him up more. "Sam, can you walk?"

"Uh…I…" Sam muttered.

Dean waited for more, but that seemed to be all he was going to get. "Okay." He said, trying not to panic yet. "Work with me, alright?" he grabbed his brother's left arm and placed it around his shoulder. "We're going to stand now, Sam. You ready?"

Sam grunted something incomprehensible but his hand tightened on Dean's shoulder. Dean took that as a good sign and slowly stood up, relieved when Sam seemed to be holding some of his own weight. They slowly hobbled away from the car, and Dean didn't stop until they were many long yards away from the now visible flames. When they were far enough away he slowly bent his knees and eased Sam down onto the forest floor. He looked up, wondering what to do, and realized that they were sitting right next to a dirt path.

He turned his gaze back to his brother. "Sammy?" he said urgently. "Sam, I need you to wake up so that you can tell me what's wrong."

Sam's left eye cracked open and he stared up at Dean. "'m awake."

"Right." Dean said, trying to smile. "Of course you are. Sam, I don't know what's wrong with you. I need you to tell me what hurts."

Sam groaned slightly. "Everything." He muttered. "What happened?"

Dean blinked, instantly worried. "I just…told you…"

Sam opened his other eye, looking almost conscious for the first time. "I don't remember."

_Shit._ "We ran into something on the road and wrecked, Sam. Then the Impala flipped and caught on fire and we had to get out and away from the car." He looked closer at Sam. "You don't remember _any _of that?"

Sam blinked, as though trying to clear his head. "No."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Dean demanded.

Sam exhaled, and then winced when the motion obviously caused him pain. "Uh…I remember… you _not _telling me about where we were going…we were arguing."

Dean winced. "Right. Well, we hit the thing right after that." He said, avoiding the subject again.

Sam shut his eyes again. "What'd we hit?" he asked faintly.

"I don't know…but there was this kid…"

Sam's eyes shot open. "We hit a _kid_—"

"No!" Dean said quickly, realizing his mistake. "No, the kid showed up when the car was upside down and I was trying to figure out how to get you out. We didn't hit her."

"Oh." Sam muttered. "Where is she?"

"Disappeared." Dean said with a shrug. "I'm guessing she's a ghost."

"Of course she is…" Sam muttered, letting his eyes slide shut again.

"No, Sam." Dean said sharply. "Don't go to sleep. Not until we figure out what's wrong with you."

Sam groaned. "Broken ribs. Concussion." He murmured.

Dean ground his teeth together. "You definitely shouldn't sleep then." He said, and gave Sam's shoulder a soft shake. "Anything else?"

Sam tried to shrug but ended up wincing instead. "I don't know. I'm fine."

"Yeah, that explains why you can't even keep your eyes open." Dean shot back.

Sam frowned and wrenched his eyes open. "'m Fine…" he muttered. His eyes focused on his brother and his frown deepened. "Dean—your arm."

Dean shook his head. "It's nothing."

"It's _broken_." Sam corrected him, concerned.

"So what? At least I can form coherent sentences." Dean shot back teasingly.

Sam groaned. "Whatever. We have to get out of here…did you call Bobby?"

"There's no cellphone service here…I checked." Dean said darkly.

Sam sighed. "Figures." He muttered, and let his eyes slide shut again.

"You got out." A childish voice said.

**If you think the mysterious child has come to kill Sam (like almost everything else on the show) and therefore Dean should increase his protective side in order to prevent this (but remain rational and not blow everything up), go to Chapter 10.**

**OR**

**If you think the child has no purpose in this story but to be evil and spread pain and horror, and should therefore die before that can happen, turn to Chapter 11. **

**Chapter Five**

Before Dean could yank on the door handle, the door lock slipped down into place. Dean's eyes widened in horror. He tugged on the handle, but he couldn't open the door. "No no no." he muttered, terror rising inside of him.

He turned away and began walking back to his side of the car, but his door slammed shut before he could reach it. He pulled on the handle, but his door was locked too. Panicking now, he dashed back over to Sam's door and pounded on the glass. "Sammy!" he shouted. "Sam!"

Sam didn't move.

Dean's mind spun. He crawled over to the front windshield of the Impala and reached down to crawl through the broken glass, but the glass shards suddenly flew up, making the windshield whole again. It was as though it had never been broken. "NO!" Dean shouted angrily, pounding on the glass. "Sammy, no! Damn it, Sam! Wake up!"

He turned to look at the front of the car—and could see flames twisting out from underneath it. "No no no no! Damn it, NO!" he screamed.

He heard a giggle behind him, and spun around. The little girl was back, and she was skipping around the car.

"You!" Dean shouted at her, frantic. "Who the hell are you? What did you do?"

The girl laughed and looked at him innocently.

Dean turned back to the car and began kicking his brother's window, trying desperately to break the glass.

The little girl's smile widened as she skipped playfully around the car. "Ring around the rosy…"

Dean yelled in frustration. The glass wouldn't break—impossible. He had to get Sam out _now_. "Sammy…wake up! Please!" he shouted, his voice breaking as he breathed in a lungful of smoke. _Oh God oh God oh God…_

"Pocket full of posy…"

"SAM!" Dean screamed in between coughs, pounding as hard as he could on the glass. He heard more than felt the bones in his hand finally shatter upon impact. "SAMMY!"

"Ashes, ashes…"

The flames licked up the body of the Impala, coming dangerously close—

"We all…fall…down."

The Impala exploded in a flash of light. Dean was thrown backwards a few feet by the blast and landed in a heap on the forest floor, motionless.

**The End.**

**Sorry, Sam's dead. If you want to try your luck again, either go back to Chapter Three and pick the other option or start over at the beginning. **

**Chapter Six**

"Let's go right." Sam said, turning to follow the new path.

Dean nodded wordlessly, and started down ahead of him.

"So…" Sam began after a minute of walking, "About whatever it is that you're keeping from me…" he trailed off, leaving it open for whatever Dean might say.

Dean was silent for a moment and then spoke bitterly. "Yeah, well _Sammy_, I figure that since you've been lying and keeping information from me I'm perfectly justified in returning the favor."

Sam's head shot up and took a sharp intake of breath as though he had been slapped across the face. _A slap would have been better_. He looked down. "Dean…"

"Sam, please. I don't want to talk about it." Dean's voice was guarded and angry. Almost too angry.

Sam clamped his mouth shut and walked a little faster so that he was walking ahead of Dean instead of next to him so that he could think. Things had gotten so out of hand. He didn't know if he could ever mend the gap that had opened wide between them…

"Hello." A cheerful voice said from ahead of him.

Sam's head shot up. There was a girl standing on the path a few yards away. He stopped walking and felt Dean come to a stop beside him. "Hi." Sam said carefully, trying to hide his shotgun from view and keep it ready to fire at the same time. "What's your name?"

The girl just smiled. "You can't catch me, na nah nah na nah!" she turned and darted off the path through the trees.

"Wait!" Sam called after her. He groaned and took off running with only a flashlight to light his way. The forest was dark, and wet branches slapped across his face and arms as he ran blindly. He could barely see the child's outline as he forced himself to run faster. "Wait!" he called again. He could hear Dean running just behind him.

She disappeared.

Sam kept running and looked all around him, trying to spy where she had gone—

The ground gave way beneath him, and he plummeted down through the darkness. He slammed into a hard surface and then fell a few more yards to land on a rocky ground. Pain shot through his body like fire.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean shouted down from above. "Sam!"

Sam blinked hard and took a deep breath, forcing back the pain. He needed to concentrate. Assess the situation first, deal with the injuries later.

"Sam! Damn it, Sam, answer me!" Dean shouted frantically from above.

Sam blinked harder. Dean sounded genuinely worried…he must have hit his head harder then he thought. Sam gritted his teeth together and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Dean!" He tried to shout, but it came out as barely a whisper. He stared around him, but he had dropped his flashlight in the fall and couldn't see anything. He reached down for where his gun should be, but it was missing as well. _Damn it…_

"Sammy!" Dean shouted again.

Sam blinked again. His head was spinning. "Dean!" he called back, slightly louder this time. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Dean! I'm okay!"

There was a small pause, in which Sam could imagine the relieved look on Dean's face. "Okay...Okay." He said, and Sam could _hear _the relief oozing from his voice. "Sammy, are you hurt?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer and stopped, his voice caught in his throat. He had heard something.

"Sam?" Dean called, worried.

Sam stared around, forcing himself to try to see through the darkness—but he couldn't. It happened again—the sound of loose rocks sliding across the floor. Close—very close.

"Sam!" Dean yelled again. "Sam, I'm going to drop my flashlight down to you."

Sam sat there silently, trying to disappear. The sound happened again, even closer. Something was down there with him—and he didn't have light to see what it was or a weapon to defend himself. He moved his hand backward on the rocks he was lying on, trying to find some type of crude weapon—and froze.

Whatever he had picked up in his hand wasn't rock shaped…he dropped it quietly and felt around again, and his fingers curled around a similar object—hard, long, cylindrical.

He wasn't sitting on a pile of rocks—he was sitting on a pile of bones.

Something else moved, but the sound came from behind him. His heart pounded in his chest, mad with uncertainty. What was there? How many were there? And how exactly was he going to escape?

Something dropped from the opening—a flashlight fell to the ground practically on top of him, and he leaned forward slightly to catch it before it could shatter on the floor. It illuminated the room—

**Sometimes, survival comes down to luck. Pick a number between 1 and 10. **

**If you picked an even number, go to chapter 8**

**OR**

**If you picked an odd number, go to chapter 9**

**Chapter Seven**

"Let's go left." Sam suggested flatly. He turned to the left path and walked past Dean without another word.

They walked for a few moments in silence.

"Sam…" Dean finally muttered behind him.

Sam continued walking. "What?" he demanded. The rain was cold on his skin, and he pulled the sleeves of his jacket down to try to cover as much skin as possible.

Dean gritted his teeth. "I…I need to tell you something."

_Finally…_ Sam's eyes darkened and he kept walking. "Okay. Go ahead." He said stiffly.

He felt Dean's hand grab onto his shoulder and he stopped reluctantly. "Dean…"

"Sam…I think we should just go back to the Impala." Dean said quickly, interrupting him.

Sam's eyes narrowed in confusion and he finally met his brother's worried, anxious gaze. "Why? We never bail on a possible case." he said. He looked closer at Dean, and saw that his brother's eyes were sweeping back and forth around them, as though waiting for something to jump out of the bushes. "Dean…what's wrong? What haven't you been telling me?"

Dean met Sam's gaze for only a moment and then looked away. "We need to leave."

"Why?"

"I…I can't tell you." Dean stammered, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Sam, _please_. You have to trust me."

Sam's eyes narrowed in anger. "What do you mean you can't tell me?" he demanded. He paused, connecting events in his head, and his eyes narrowed further. "This has something to do with why you've been driving us as fast as you could across the country, doesn't it?"

"Sammy—"

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on, Dean? I'm your _brother_, I think I deserve to know if we're in severe peril."

"Not _we_." Dean said softly, his face contorted.

It clicked. Sam sighed, realization flooding through him along with a twinge of relief. "It's just me, isn't it?" he muttered, staring at Dean. "I'm in danger."

Dean's eyes hardened. "We need to leave." He turned to walk away, still gripping the fabric of Sam's jacket.

Sam shrugged out of his hold. "No. Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Sam—I _can't_." Dean said helplessly. "It's not that I don't _want _to tell you. I _can't_."

Sam looked away angrily. "Why not?" he demanded, "What the hell's stopping you?"

"Sam, listen to me." Dean said through clenched teeth. "I don't think we accidently hit something back there. Someone wanted us to stop here, and if we keep going down this path something bad is going to happen."

"Why?" Sam demanded. "Why would someone be after us?"

Dean gritted his teeth together, almost shaking with fury. "Because…because I haven't done it, Sam."

Sam stared at how upset his brother had become and forced himself to calm down so that he wouldn't aggravate him further. "Dean…" he said softly. "What haven't you done?"

Dean shook his head. "Sammy, please. I can't tell you—believe me, I wish I could. Just trust me when I say we need to leave."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but shut it wordlessly. "Okay." He said finally, giving in.

Dean looked up, shock and relief shining in his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "You're upset, and I trust you."

Dean nodded.

"But you _will_ tell me eventually." Sam said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Dean frowned. "Let's go back." He turned around on the path—and stopped.

A little girl was standing in front of them, a sour look on her face. "You can't leave yet." She said, her tone as cold as ice.

Sam gazed at the child in confusion. He turned to Dean to see if his brother knew her, but Dean's face reflected his own bewilderment. "Who are you?" he asked.

The girl scowled. "You ran away, Dean Winchester." She said, ignoring his question. "You should know that there is nowhere you can hide. Your orders were unquestionable."

Dean's face tightened and he stepped protectively in front of Sam. "Go away." He said furiously.

"You better do it yourself, Dean…or _he _will." She said flatly. "And he won't be nearly as…quick…about it as you would. Surely you know what I mean?"

"Don't you _dare_." Dean snarled.

"Do I have to remind you of what happens if you _don't _carry out your little task?" she persisted with a sneer. "Surely you don't want _that_."

Sam watched as Dean tightened at her words. He reached out and put a hand on his brother's shoulder to try to calm him down. "Dean…what is she talking about?"

The girl grinned. "I'm glad to see that you've kept one part of the agreement, at least." She said maliciously, shifting her eyes to focus on Sam. "Make sure you don't let any information slip, Dean…or else. _You_ know what will happen."

"I don't care!" Dean said hoarsely, "I'm not going to do it. I _won't_."

"You _will._" She interrupted icily. Her lips curled up into a sneer. "I don't personally think you could live through the alternative a second time."

"What alternative?" Sam demanded angrily. "Dean, _what is she talking about_?"

"Don't worry, Sammy dearest—you'll find out soon enough." The girl sneered.

Dean's eyes narrowed into slits. "_Get out of here._" He hissed.

She smirked. "You have one hour to do what he asked, Dean—or else _he _will."

She disappeared.

Dean exhaled slowly and stared at the spot where she had vanished with a sinking expression. "_Shit_…" he muttered, running a hand over his face.

Sam stared helplessly down at his brother. "Dean…" he started, and then stopped, unsure of what to say. No more questions about what was happening. It was obvious that Dean couldn't tell him anything, so it was pointless to continue aggravating him. He shook his head wearily and changed tactics. "What do we need to do?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know." He muttered.

Sam bit his lip in frustration. "Dean…" he said softly, "I have no idea what's going on—you do. I'm sorry that the pressure is on you here, and I know that your mind is probably going into overdrive scheming ways to get us out of this, but you need to think of something—"

"There's nothing I can _do_, Sam!" Dean interrupted angrily, "Nothing I can think of even comes _close _to having an acceptable outcome."

Sam winced. "Okay. Okay. Let's think about this for a moment." He paused, his brow furrowed. "She said someone told you to do something—and that if you don't do it there will be consequences for you."

"Yeah." Dean shrugged.

"So just do what they want." Sam said softly.

"NO!" Dean shouted, suddenly angry. "Sam, it's not that simple—"

"Well I'm guessing that the penalty for not doing it is high, Dean." Sam spat, just as angry, "When she mentioned it, you looked scared. _Scared._"

Dean scowled at him. "Damn it, Sammy, you have _no idea_—"

"Okay, fine." Sam huffed, running a hand through his hair as he thought. "Is there any way…that you can do what they want and then undo it somehow?"

Dean paused, and his face loosened.

"You know…" Sam went on, encouraged, "Cheat?"

Dean glanced up thoughtfully. His face was still conflicted, but he no longer looked like he thought the world was ending. "Sam…" he said slowly.

"You have an idea." Sam said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes..." Dean said, looking pained.

"But?" Sam prompted apprehensively.

"_But_ it's risky." Dean said nervously, "And I couldn't tell you anything…he would try to stop me."

Sam nodded and gave him an encouraging smile. "I'll be behind whatever choice you make, Dean."

Dean frowned. "I know…" he muttered darkly. "That just makes this even harder."

**If you think that Dean should carry through with his idea, turn to Chapter 14.**

**OR**

**If you think that Dean's idea probably has the survival rate of a snowball in Hell and the boys should try to escape and/or fight their way out instead, turn to Chapter 15. **

**Chapter Eight**

—"Shit." Sam breathed, his eyes wide. He was surrounded on all sides by creatures he had never seen before—and never wanted to see again. They were large—about eight feet tall—and had been cruelly blessed with thick black fur and razor sharp teeth. There were hundreds of them.

Sam stared ahead, trying not to breathe. The creature closest to him opened its mouth wider, and saliva dripped down onto the bones covering the floor. Sam was made painfully aware that they were attracted to his light and he didn't have a weapon to defend himself.

"Sammy?" Dean called from the top, uncertainty of Sam's situation allowing fear to creep into his voice. "What is it?"

Sam watched as the creature's eyes flicked briefly to the top of the cave where Dean was and then back to Sam. He reached out one hand, willing them to step back—but they took a step forward instead. Sam's eyes widened further.

"Your powers won't stop them." A childish voice said.

Sam glanced to the side and saw the little girl standing beside him. The creatures stepped closer, and Sam knew he had only seconds left. "Why?" he asked her.

The girl grinned but didn't answer.

"Who are you?" Sam demanded. "What do you want with me?"

Her smile widened. "I follow orders…unlike your brother. You can thank him for this—he failed, so this will be a lot more painful for you then if he had just done it himself."

Sam gaped at her, his mind racing. "What—"

The creature in front of him leapt with a blur of claws and teeth. Sam felt it slam into him and he was thrown backwards by the impact. The other creatures jumped on him instantly, covering him in a merciless pile of bodies. He screamed as excruciating pain shot through him.

Dean stared down into the darkness, horrified at the sound of his brother's screams. "NO!" he shouted helplessly, unable to see or do anything, "Sam! Sammy!"

**The End.**

**Sam's dead—now we can all sympathize with how hard Dean has to work to keep him alive each week. If you want to try again, you can either go back to Chapter Six and pick the other option or start back at the beginning. **

**Chapter Nine**

—Nothing was there. Sam whirled around, holding the flashlight tight in his grip, but there was nothing behind him either. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sam!" Dean shouted from above. "Answer me already! Are you alright?"

"Yes." Sam shouted back. He tried to stand up and fell back to the ground with a spasm of pain. "Ohh…maybe not…" he muttered quietly to himself. He shone the flashlight up towards the opening above him, but the beam didn't make it all the way to the top.

"Why didn't you answer me before?" Dean demanded, some frustration creeping back into his voice now that he knew Sam wasn't dead.

"Thought I heard something." Sam said truthfully. "But…apparently not?" He sounded unsure.

"Okay…" Dean muttered. "Where are you?"

Sam shone the flashlights around him, illuminating his surroundings. "I'm in a big cave." he said, "Some tunnels seem to lead off from this area…"

"No. Don't go anywhere, okay?" Dean ordered quickly. "I don't want you exploring a possibly dangerous environment without me. I'm going to work on getting you out." He paused, and then continued, "Sam…is there anything down there that would suggest you are in any imminent danger?"

Sam looked around at the obviously human bones covering the cavern floor. "Uh…"

"What?" Dean asked quickly.

"Well, there are bones everywhere…" he trailed off.

"Bones?" Dean exclaimed, the worry back in his voice. "What kind of bones?"

Sam sighed. "Don't freak out, I'm fine." He called up.

Dean swore. "They're human bones, aren't they?"

Sam winced. "Uh…"

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean shouted angrily. "Do you at least still have your gun?"

"I…dropped it. When I fell." Sam admitted reluctantly.

Dean swore again. "Do you see it anywhere? Maybe you could get up and try to find it."

Sam's frown deepened and he stared down at his right leg—which was twisted at a weird angle. "I—uh…I think my leg is broken, Dean." He admitted grudgingly. "But I can try."

Silence.

"Dean?" he called, worried.

"I'm coming down there." Dean said flatly.

Sam's eyes widened. "No!" he said quickly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! The walls are slick, Dean. You'd just end up falling and getting hurt like I did."

"Where else are you hurt?" Dean demanded suspiciously.

Sam looked down at himself, analyzing his injuries for the first time. There was blood on his head, so he had obviously hit it off the rock when he fell. He had other scrapes and bruises, but there was nothing else majorly wrong. "Nowhere." He called back. "I'm fine. You should go find help."

"I'm not leaving you lying helplessly in a cave, Sam!"

"I'm not helpless." Sam defended himself.

Dean started to say something else, but a motion caught Sam's eye and he froze, his brother's voice fading in the background. Something was walking toward him out of the darkness.

Sam became painfully aware that he didn't have a gun, and the flashlight he was holding was probably attracting the creature. He wanted to turn off the light, but he knew that if he did he wouldn't be able to see where or what the creature was. It was getting closer…

**If you think Sam should turn off the flashlight, turn to Chapter 12**

**OR**

**If you think Sam should keep the flashlight on, turn to Chapter 13**

**Chapter Ten**

Sam's eyes snapped open and he and Dean stared ahead of them. A child was standing there, staring down at them only a few feet away.

"Yes…" Dean said carefully, "We got out." He unconsciously moved over a few inches, putting himself between her and Sam.

"Why would you do something silly like that?" the girl chided him. "You know what I'm here for, Dean."

Dean's entire body went rigid. "W-what? How do you know my name?"

She laughed and ignored the question. "I provided you with such a perfect way to do what was necessary, Dean, and you wasted it. All you had to do was get out of the car and wait for the explosion."

Dean's body tensed at the implications of her statement. He pulled out his shotgun with his good arm and aimed it at the girl.

"Dean!" Sam gasped, horrified. "Dean, don't!"

"Sam…" Dean growled, his narrowed eyes locked on the girl. "I'd bet anything that this girl is already dead. I'd bet all the money in the world that she isn't here to sing songs and play games with us. And I bet on the lives of all my children that I'd be better off shooting her now then listening to whatever nonsense she has to say."

Sam blinked, trying to think of a way to calm his brother down. He reached out weakly and pushed down on the gun so that it was no longer pointed at her. "Dean, calm down. She's not attacking us…and you don't have any children to place bets on."

Dean scowled. "Someday I might." His finger tightened on the trigger.

"I don't want to hurt you." The girl said softly, staring up at them with wide, innocent eyes.

"That's what they all say." Dean spat bitterly, "And then one of us ends up getting stabbed in the back."

"What if she's telling the truth?" Sam demanded.

Dean laughed bitterly. "That'd be a first, wouldn't it Sammy? I wouldn't count on it if I were you."

The girl frowned. "I don't like you very much."

"Tough." Dean said, and pulled the gun back up until it was level with her eyes. "Any last words?"

The girl glared at Dean, all pretense of innocence gone from her face. "You can't kill me, _he_ would know." She laughed softly at his furious expression. "You know why they sent me, Dean. I'm here to do what they ordered you to do, since you don't seem to have the strength to do it—"

**If you think Dean should hurry up and shoot her anyway, go to Chapter 16.**

**OR**

**If you think that Dean should definitely **_**not **_**shoot her, go to Chapter 17.**

**Chapter Eleven**

Dean pulled out his shotgun at the sound of her voice and aimed the weapon straight at her. "Leave." He said darkly. "Now."

"No." she said simply, and laughed. "I'm here to—"

Dean fired. The bullet hit her in the chest, and she exploded into a cloud of dust before she even had time for the shock to register on her face.

Sam's mouth fell open. "Dean—"

"She would have caused nothing but trouble, Sammy." Dean said.

"Yeah, well, you could have at least figured out what she wanted."

"Knowing our luck she wanted us dead, and I really didn't need to hear her say that." He scrutinized his brother apprehensively. "You feeling any better?"

Sam scowled but nodded. "A little." He paused, and then added, "But you still didn't have to shoot her."

"We need to get out of here." Dean said, ignoring his protests. "Can you walk?"

Sam nodded. "I think so."

Dean reached out a hand and slowly helped his brother climb to his feet. Sam swayed back and forth, clearly unsteady. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam blinked. "Yeah…" he muttered. "My head just feels like a ton of bricks landed on it."

Dean laughed. "Your head's always been a bit off, Sam."

Sam scowled at him and swatted him playfully. "Shut up," he moaned, "Just tell me where we're going."

Dean looked back at the car—which was in flames—and winced. "Well…we're not going to be going anywhere _fast_." He said mournfully.

Sam mirrored his expression. "Dean…"

"It's okay…" Dean said, forcing himself to look away. "It's just a car."

Sam's eyebrows rose but he didn't say anything.

"We need to get back to the road…" Dean murmured, his voice still twisted, "Someone will see us and give us a ride…hopefully not someone in a minivan."

Sam nodded—and his head spun. He winced.

"What?" Dean asked anxiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" Sam said, blinking to clear the spots out of his vision, "No more nodding."

"Oh." Dean said. "Let's get to the road before you really hurt yourself." He put his good arm around Sam's shoulder and helped his brother limp slowly up the slope toward the road.

A strong breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves.

"I don't think so." A new voice hissed behind them. Dean started to turn around, but before he could see who was there a force threw him through the air—away from Sam.

He landed hard on pine needles and dirt and rolled a few more feet until he came to a stop at the base of a maple tree. He pushed himself up quickly and saw a shadowy figure standing right in front of Sam. "NO!" he shouted.

Sam's eyes flicked to his, realizing what was about to happen. He looked back at the man in front of him, but it was too dark to make out any discerning features.

Dean leapt to his feet and ran toward them, but the man pulled out a knife and waved it suggestively at Sam.

Dean stopped instantly, understanding a threat when he saw it. Sam stared at the knife, fully aware that he was barely able to stand, so fighting off this man would be impossible.

"Don't." Dean pleaded. "Please. I'll do anything."

Sam cringed at the despair in Dean's voice.

"Too late for that now, isn't it?" the man said, chuckling with amusement, "I gave you an assignment—you didn't do it. I'm merely cleaning up after your failure."

"Damn it! I couldn't do _that_." Dean raged angrily. "I'll do anything but _that_! Anything!"

"It makes no difference." The man said, indifferent. "You failed. And now you get to witness the consequences." He lifted the knife up higher.

"Don't—" Dean choked.

"Calm down, boy, I'm merely admiring the weapon." He said, amused. "Do you recognize it? It took me a while to hunt it down, but I finally found it."

Sam stared at the rusted blade and his eyes widened. _Oh no…not that…_

The man laughed. "Sam apparently remembers. I thought it would be fitting to kill him with the same knife that killed him last time—you remember, Dean—the _other _time that you failed and couldn't save him."

Dean's face paled. "N-no."

The man moved before Dean could even blink—he shoved the knife swiftly into Sam's chest.

Dean's mouth dropped open. "NO!" he shrieked. "DAMN IT, NOO!" he tried to run forward, but it was as though an invisible force was holding him there, only meters away from his brother.

Sam gasped as red hot stabs of pain shot through his chest. It took him a few moments to realize that he had fallen to his knees in the dirt. His eyes were cloudy; unfocused. He blinked hard and then raised his gaze to meet Dean's frantic eyes. "Dean…" he muttered breathlessly.

"Right. Well, that's enough fun for today." The man said sadistically, and with one fluid motion he reached down and ripped the knife savagely out of Sam's chest.

Sam gasped once more and then fell face down on the ground, motionless, his eyes still gazing sightlessly in Dean's direction.

"NOO!" Dean shrieked, fighting to break through the invisible barrier that was holding him back. "NO! SAM! SAMMY! NOO!"

The man's lips curled up further in satisfied amusement. "_Yes_, Dean." He chimed in, turning toward him, "You didn't do what I asked…surely you saw this coming? I don't leave any loose ends…and you did kill my messenger. That was unacceptable."

Dean sank to his knees on the ground, staring blankly at his brother's body.

The shadowy man walked forward toward him. "And now…it's time for your punishment, Dean—I did warn you what would happen if you disappointed me. Are you ready?"

**The End.**

**Sam's dead…and Dean…well, Dean's worse than dead (have you caught on yet?) But there is still hope! If you want to try again to keep them alive, either go back to Chapter Four and pick the other option or try again from the beginning. **

**Chapter Twelve**

The choice seemed obvious—Sam turned off the flashlight.

Darkness pressed in on him from all sides, making him feel even more exposed and helpless then he had felt before—but at least he wasn't holding a beacon of light anymore.

He held his breath as he heard the creature coming closer. It only took him a few seconds to realize that whatever that thing was, it was _still coming right at him_. His heartbeat seemed unnaturally loud as he held absolutely still, silently cursing the fact that he had dropped his gun. It had only been a massive, unexpected drop. Surely he should have been able to hold onto it…

The creature's footsteps halted—right in front of him.

His lungs were about to explode—he needed oxygen badly—but he didn't dare take a breath for fear of exposing himself.

He needn't have worried.

"Yes, that's him." A man's voice said lazily from behind him. "You can kill him now. Slowly, please."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. The thing in front of him took another large step forward—

Sam braced himself and leapt to the side just before the thing crashed onto the bones he had been sitting on.

"Sam!" Dean yelled loudly from above, realizing that his brother was in serious danger. "Sammy! No!"

Sam landed a few feet away—right on his broken leg. He squeezed his lips tight to muffle the scream that welled up in his throat and worked on trying to pull himself upright. He couldn't stand; his other leg didn't seem to want to work either. He could hear the creature turning toward the scrambling sounds he was making on the bones, and he forced himself to move—to crawl.

"STOP!" Dean suddenly yelled frantically from above. "DON'T HURT HIM! PLEASE!"

The creature paused.

"No." the man's voice said again. "I want you to kill him."

It snarled and turned back to him with eagerness that was even obvious in the darkness of the cave. Sam held the flashlight tightly in his grip. He knew that turning it on—even now—would only make it easier for the thing to kill him. The only purpose it could serve now was as a blunt—and highly ineffective—weapon.

"WAIT! I KNOW YOU'RE DOWN THERE!" Dean yelled again, his voice rising in volume. "DON'T KILL HIM! PLEASE! NOT LIKE THIS! I'LL DO WHAT YOU WANTED! I'LL DO IT!"

The creature didn't even pause this time, it loomed over Sam's body and suddenly Sam felt something heavy, wet, and sharp slam into his side. He left the ground instantly and slammed hard into a slick, hard surface only to tumble down on his back. Needles of pain shot through him so that he couldn't even breathe. The creature slouched toward him again over the scattered bones, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut, waiting—

"Stop." The man's voice said softly.

The creature hesitated.

"I will take it from here. Go back."

Sam felt hot saliva drip down onto his face and he cringed away from it, waiting. The creature growled deeply in his ear. He could _smell _the stench of its fur—

"Go. Now." The man commanded darkly.

The creature let out another breath and turned abruptly—and was gone without another sound. Sam was left lying flat against the pile of bones, clutching his flashlight so tightly that his knuckles were white. He realized that he was holding his breath, and he let it out in a rush of air.

"Sam?!" Dean shouted down.

"He is…_alive_." The man's voice said, pronouncing the final word as though it thoroughly disgusted him.

Dean ignored him. "Sammy?" he called down anxiously.

Sam let out another breath in a whoosh. "Here." He managed to croak out.

"See? He's fine." The man said lightly. "I will bring him to you. This cave _is _rather unpleasant."

Sam blinked, confused. How was he going to—

And then he was out of the cave, lying in a puddle of mud underneath the pine trees.

"_Oh God…_" he heard someone gasp, and then Dean was beside him, staring down at him in horror.

Sam forced himself to take another breath and realized with a jolt that it hurt—broken ribs? Broken ribs _and _a broken leg? What else hurt…everything. _Not very helpful_. He blinked hard and realized that someone was talking to him, saying…something. He concentrated, trying to focus on the voice, but that just made his head pound even _worse_.

"…Sammy? Hey...you're alright, you're alright—No no no…Sam, stay with me…"

Sam took in a shallow breath. He recognized that voice. That voice was important. "…de…"

"S-sam? I'm here, alright? I'm here."

Sam felt himself becoming more aware, and as it happened he realized that he preferred to be almost unconscious. Pain shot through him like daggers, all over his body—

He opened his eyes. His vision was spotted, but he could see Dean staring down at him, his face contorted into some unfathomable expression. "Dean." He breathed.

"Sammy. It's okay. You're okay." Dean said quickly, his eyes betraying his words even as he said them.

Sam wasn't fooled. "H-how bad?" he demanded weakly.

Dean didn't answer.

"D-dean." Sam said softly, "How b-bad?"

Dean bit his lip and looked away, his breathing hitched and uneven. "I-it's not that bad, Sammy. You'll be fine."

"No he won't." another voice said shortly. "You know that, Dean."

Dean's eyes narrowed and his face screwed up in anger. He kept one hand resting lightly on Sam's chest and turned slightly. "I'll _kill _you." He spat furiously at the man standing behind him.

Sam tilted his head so that he could see the person who had been with him in the cave—but it was too dark. He could only see his outline.

"You can't kill me." the man said. "You wouldn't even come close."

"Watch me." Dean hissed.

The man laughed. "I'd like to. But Dean…aren't you forgetting something? I only agreed to spare Sam's life down there because you agreed to cooperate."

Dean's hand tensed on Sam's chest. "I…" he choked.

"Dean?" Sam murmured worriedly. "W-what's wrong?"

"Yes, _Dean_…" the man's voice taunted. "What's wrong?"

"_No_…" Dean whispered brokenly. "Please…don't make me…not _that_."

The man chuckled. "Make up your mind, boy. I was killing Sam down there because I figured that you wouldn't be able to go through with it, and imagine my surprise when you suddenly agreed."

"You…you were killing him." Dean said hoarsely.

"Y-es…" the man said slowly, as though he was speaking to an idiot. "I _was_. But I'd much rather you agreed to cooperate and killed him yourself like I asked you to this morning…it would make everything so much more _entertaining_. And—of course—do you need me to remind you of what will happen if you _refuse_?"

Sam's eyes widened as everything clicked together in a rush.

"Oh, _now_ you've done it." The man said with a chuckle. "Sam understands what's going on…this takes half the fun away, you know."

Dean's eyes snapped back to Sam's with a jolt. He stared down at his little brother with horrified eyes. "Sammy…" he said helplessly, "I…"

Sam stared back at him, his mind clearer now that he finally understood. "Dean…" he interrupted softly, "That's what it was…all about. The p-phone call, you driving away…he ordered y-you to kill…me."

Dean clenched his teeth together and nodded. "I panicked…He's powerful, Sam, _so_ powerful…I didn't know what to do…I couldn't do it, Sammy…I couldn't—"

"But Sam, do you know what happens to Dean if he doesn't kill you?" The man interrupted gleefully.

Sam didn't look away from his brother. "No." he said quietly.

"_No_! Oh, you have to hear it, this is the best part, Sammy!" he exclaimed mockingly. "If Dean refuses to kill you—I'll send him back to Hell. I wonder how long he'll last _this _time…"

Sam's breath caught in his throat and then his breathing sped up instantly as the horror of the situation fully hit him. He raised his right arm off the ground and clasped his fingers around Dean's wrist, ignoring the hot pain that shot through his injured arm at the sudden movement. "Dean—no!" he hissed frantically.

Dean stared back at him helplessly. "Sammy—"

"You're _not _g-going back to Hell, Dean." Sam said fiercely. "No way."

Dean fisted his brother's shirt and matched the intensity of his brother's gaze. "I'm _not _killing you, Sammy."

Sam shook his head and blinked to try to further clear his vision. "I'm a-already mostly dead, Dean—"

"I don't care!" Dean shouted back, "We are _not_ having this argument! I don't care if you're an inch from death—I'm not killing you!"

The man smirked. "But Dean—if you were so sure of your decision, why didn't you just turn me down this morning? Scared of Hell, are you?"

Dean's face twisted, betraying his conflicting emotions.

"D-damn it!" Sam shouted roughly, ignoring the sharp pains shooting through his body as he tried to sit up, "Who _w-wouldn't _be scared of Hell? H-he's not g-going back!"

Dean hurriedly placed a little pressure on Sam's chest to ease him back onto the ground. "Sammy…" he said worriedly, "Don't move, alright? You're going to hurt yourself."

The man laughed. "Oh…this is much more exciting than I'd hoped. The bond between you two is simply _delicious_…" he sneered. "Severing it is going to be even better."

**The situation seems dire—time for some Winchester action (and luck). But **_**what **_**should the boys do?**

**If you think Dean needs to make a choice quickly (and possibly shoot the demon full of holes) turn to Chapter 18.**

**OR**

**If you think Sam's powers are their only hope, go to Chapter 19. **

**Chapter Thirteen**

Sam's finger moved away from the power switch and his mouth set in a determined line. It was too late—the creature already knew where he was. He was helpless enough at the moment, and if he had to die now he wasn't going to go out cowering in the dark.

He looked around calmly trying to locate his gun, but he still didn't see the weapon. The creature was lurching forward loudly, scattering bones as it approached. It was huge—he was so screwed. In one last attempt to save himself, Sam reached out one hand and concentrated—

Nothing happened. While Sam's powers could usually stop a demon in its tracks, the creature continued its advance as though he hadn't done anything. _Figures it would be immune…_

"Sam?!" Dean called frantically from above. "Sammy, what's going on? Sam!"

"Sorry Dean…" Sam whispered, regretting that the last conversation he and his brother had had was an argument. He glanced down at his broken leg and winced—bone was protruding through his skin. He had only seconds left now before the creature reached him, and he couldn't even _run_. Escape was impossible. No backup was coming. His powers seemed inept. He didn't have a weapon…

He paused in the middle of his pessimistic checklist, a new thought coming to mind. He reached down and pulled a knife out of his pocket. The blade glinted in the light, illuminating its inefficiency and obvious insignificance.

He might as well have been holding a toothpick.

He squared his shoulders, ignoring the searing pain that shot through him at the sudden motion. The creature stopped about a foot in front of him and glowered down at his still body, salivating with expectation. Sam stared back at it, and in a brief moment of insanity he felt himself imagining Dean making some slapstick comment about him being attacked by Bigfoot. He smiled.

The creature towered over him, a deathtrap of muscle, claws, teeth, and fur. This was no Bigfoot—this was a hundred times worse.

Sam hefted the knife in his palm, wondering why the beast was hesitating.

"Kill him. Now." A man's voice boomed behind him.

Oh. That explained it—_someone_ _else_ wanted him dead. The creature snarled and advanced the remaining distance, revealing a mouth brimming with teeth. Sam waited, his eyes narrowed unflinchingly in concentration as he held the would-be-toothpick ready in his hand. He could hear Dean screaming his name frantically from above and took comfort in his brother's voice. He breathed in deeply, waiting.

It was over before he even had a chance to register the pain.

**The End.**

**Poor Sammy…dead again. It's okay—even Dean fails sometimes. You can still give him a happy ending—either turn back to Chapter Nine and choose the other option or start back at the beginning. **

**Chapter Fourteen**

Sam winced. "Dean…"

Dean held up his hand, stopping him. "I'm doing it." He said after a short pause. "It's the only way we might both survive this."

Sam nodded. "Okay." He said simply, and waited.

Dean realized with a jolt that Sam was waiting for him to tell him what to do. "Just like that?" he muttered.

Sam's forehead puckered. "What?"

"You trust me? Just like that?"

Sam blinked. "Yes." He said simply, as though it was obvious.

Dean winced. "Oh."

Sam's lips turned up at the corners. "Would you prefer if I yelled at you and accused you of being an antagonizing jerk who insists on keeping absolutely _every_ vital piece of information from me today, even though we're in serious danger?"

Dean shrugged. "Actually…I think I would. Yelling would be better...for all you know I'm marching you off to certain death."

Sam laughed. "Let's just go, Dean. Lead on to wherever you're planning to take me."

Dean groaned. "Don't pin this all on me." He started walking back toward the Impala.

Sam followed him. "It _is_ all on you at this point." He said apologetically. He paused, "Should I be blindfolded or something?" he added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

Dean scowled. "You will be if you don't shut up."

"Got it." Sam said. "Shutting up now."

The brothers walked in silence for the remaining distance to the car. Dean pulled out the keys as they approached, his heart thudding in his chest.

Nothing happened.

He unlocked the Impala and sank into the driver's seat, and Sam slid into his seat from the other side. "Sammy…" Dean muttered.

"Just _drive_, Dean." Sam said with a sigh.

"Yeah." Dean said, his face twisted from inner turmoil.

"What is it?" Sam asked, suddenly concerned.

Dean swallowed hard and tried to smile. "Shut your eyes, Sammy." He said softly.

Sam blinked and stared at him. "What?"

"Just do it." Dean muttered.

Sam searched his brother's eyes for a few more seconds and then nodded. "Okay." He said simply, and shut his eyes.

Dean gritted his teeth.

"Just hurry up and do whatever it is." Sam said, "We don't have much time."

Dean sighed. "I know…I'm so sorry Sam." He said, and then he punched him as hard as he could.

Sam instantly slumped in his seat, unconscious.

Dean swore angrily. This was _insane_. He shouldn't be doing this, there had to be some other way…

But he was running out of time, and this was the only way. He looked at his unconscious brother for another moment and then angrily turned the keys in the ignition and sped off down the road as fast as he could.

Eventually he came to a sparsely populated area. Houses peeked out at him from beneath the trees, far enough from civilization to avoid drawing attention to what he was about to do. He analyzed each house as he slowly drove past them until he came to one with no cars in the driveway or lights shining from the windows.

He pulled into the driveway and parked the car. There wasn't time to try and be discreet.

Sam was still unconscious. Dean got out of the car and then opened his brother's door, ready to drag his brother into the house. He knew that it would be easier to…set things up…if Sam was in the car, but he wasn't willing to let him out of his sight. Not while the demon was still watching them. He dragged him up to the porch and then picked the lock. After he got Sam inside he laid him on a couch and searched the area until he located a bathroom.

He found what he was looking for—a bathtub. It was one of those old fashioned ones with the clawed feet. Bile rose up in his throat as he thought of what he had to do, and he turned on the water with shaking hands. It only took a few short minutes to fill the tub, and Dean's mind screamed at him to stall for time. To do _anything else_. _Anything_.

He couldn't stall, there were only fifteen minutes left. He walked slowly back to the living room, his feet dragging as though they were made of lead, until he came to Sam. He was still unconscious, and Dean wasn't sure if that knowledge made him want to cry or be relieved.

He hefted his brother off the couch as best he could and dragged him slowly to the bathroom, trying not to look at the water—at the _tub_. Trying not to imagine what he was about to attempt.

He gritted his teeth and then lifted Sam gently into the water, tensing in horror as he saw the water soaking through his brother's clothes. There was no turning back now…if this didn't work…

As Dean took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down, Sam's eyelids twitched. Dean sucked in a breath, horrified. _No no, Sam couldn't wake up now…_

Sam opened his eyes slowly, disoriented—and then they widened as he realized where he was. He stared at the water, at the tub, at _Dean_. He slowly raised one hand out of the water in shock and then looked at his brother, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Dean?"

Dean clenched his teeth together, forcing himself not to yank his brother out of the water right then. "Sammy…" he murmured roughly, "Sam…_oh God…_I…I have to…do this…please…just trust me, okay? _Please_." His voice broke on the last word and he stared at his bewildered younger brother, willing him to understand.

"You…" Sam muttered, trying to make sense of the situation. "Dean…what are you doing? Are you…" he trailed off, unable to actually form the words. _Are you trying to drown me?_

Dean's face twisted into a mask of pain. He reached down and put his hand gently against Sam's chest, easing him back down into the water until his head was barely above the surface. "Sammy…" he choked.

"Dean. It's okay." Sam interrupted softly. He reached up and wrapped his hand around Dean's wrist. "You have to do this, don't you? This is our way out."

Dean swallowed hard, trying to think of something to say. He came up blank—what were you _supposed_ to tell your little brother when you were trying to _kill him_? "S-sam…"

Sam gave him a small smile, as though comforting _him_. "It's okay, Dean." He said again, "I trust you." He paused, and his fingers tightened around Dean's wrist. "Do it."

"I'm sorry Sammy."

"Don't be." Sam said softy.

Dean gritted his teeth, and before he could stop himself from going through with it he pushed down, submerging Sam's head under the water. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, and his hands trembled as he continued applying pressure to keep Sam under. _Oh God…_

Sam's eyes remained open under the water as he held his breath for a few seconds, staring up at Dean. Then, as though he wanted to speed up the process, he let all of his air out in a stream of bubbles.

Dean's hand curled tightly around the material of Sam's shirt, and he felt Sam's hand tighten around his wrist. Then Sam breathed in.

Dean felt his brother jerk violently as the water filled his lungs, and he pressed down as hard as he could on his chest, making sure that he couldn't come up for air. He wanted to shut his eyes, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Sam's face as he writhed in agony, desperately trying to get up, to stop whatever was killing him. He applied more pressure, and the water sloshed up all around him as Sam struggled violently.

Sam weakened quickly, and his movements became more and more feeble until his hand loosened and finally dropped away from Dean's wrist, revealing bloody gouges where his fingernails had dug into Dean's skin. Dean let go of his brother, and Sam floated lifelessly to the surface. There was no pulse.

"AAaaagghhhhhhh!" Dean shrieked, anguish distorting his voice until it was unrecognizable as he sank down onto the flooded tile floor of the bathroom. His breathing came out in wild, uneven gasps as he squeezed his eyes shut. The image of Sam's face twisted in agony remained, burned onto his memory.

He leapt up furiously, blood pumping loudly through his veins, "WHERE ARE YOU?!" he shrieked angrily, storming out of the bathroom. He flicked on the living room, dining room, and kitchen lights as he raced through the house, not caring who saw him. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOU BASTARD?!!"

"There's no need to shout." A man's voice stated calmly.

Dean whirled around and saw a figure sitting on the couch. Even though he was right under the ceiling light, his whole body was cast in shadows, making it impossible to identify any physical features. "_You_." He hissed.

"Please." The demon said, gesturing next to him on the couch, "Sit down. You should rest."

"No." Dean spat, his hands trembling at his sides. _How long had it been? A minute?_ "I did what you asked. Get out."

The demon chuckled. "Yes…you did do it, Dean Winchester. I have to say I am surprised…and highly pleased."

"I don't care what you think!" Dean roared. "_Get out of here!_"

"No." the man said. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I swear, _I swear _I'll kill you. I don't care what I have to do, or how long it takes, but I _will_ make you wish you'd never existed." Dean promised furiously, his heart pounding in his chest. _Two minutes…Oh God…_

The man laughed. "Good!" he exclaimed, standing up and walking toward Dean. "That's exactly what I wanted—rage, anger, _hate_. You're an interesting individual, Dean…and now that Sam's out of the way—"

Dean lunged, gripping the knife in his hand before he even thought about what he was doing. The figure twisted out of the way and knocked the knife out of his hand with ease. Dean was pinned against the wall before he even had time to figure out what had gone wrong.

"That wasn't very smart, Dean…" the demon said, frowning.

"Go to Hell." Dean muttered angrily. _Two and a half?? No no no—_

"I don't think so…" he continued. "It's much nicer up here. Don't you agree?"

"Have I met you before?" Dean muttered, stalling for time as his mind raced to discover what he could do to get out of this. There was no time left, no time—

"Once…in Hell." The demon replied.

"Figures." Dean spat.

"You impressed me." He continued.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dean said truthfully as the searing guilt of his actions shot through him again.

The man smirked. "You work for me now."

"I don't work for _anyone_." Dean hissed. "And certainly not _you_."

The man hesitated, and then shrugged. "You'll come around." He said, "It'll only take a few more years of Hell for you to be—" he broke off, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What—" he began, but before he could finish his sentence the shadowy figure exploded in a cloud of black dust.

Castiel was standing there, holding the forgotten knife. They stared at each other. "Dean…"

"You decide to show up _now_?!" Dean yelled, anger pulsing through him toward the angel who had just saved his life.

Castiel actually had the decency to look almost ashamed. "I was…otherwise engaged today…I _am_ sorry…"

Dean pushed past him without another word and raced into the bathroom. His brother was still in the water where he had left him… _How long? How long?? Three minutes?? More??_

He yanked Sam out of the water and dumped him on the tile floor. "Sammy no no no…" he muttered unconsciously, turning his brother over. Sam's lips were blue, his face as pale as marble.

Dean pounded on his brother's chest, beginning CPR. "Come on, Sammy _breathe_." He choked, "Breathe, please, for me, please just breathe!"

Sam remained motionless despite Dean's action, his head rolling lifelessly from side to side as Dean worked furiously. _He was dead a long time…too long..._ "NO!" he screamed angrily, pounding his fist down on Sam's chest hard enough to break something. "Damn it Sammy, _please_! You can't be dead, not like this, not because of me!"

Nothing.

"CASTIEL!" Dean shrieked suddenly, continuing to work on his brother. "CASTIEL I NEED YOU!"

There was a heavy sigh as Castiel seemingly appeared in the doorframe…or maybe he had been there all along. "Dean…I can't." he sighed.

"You can do it, you can save him, you can bring him back," Dean rambled frantically, unsure if the words coming out of his mouth were making any sense.

"Dean…" Castiel muttered softly. "I can't interfere like that."

"You brought _me_ back!" Dean raged as he continued the CPR.

"That was…different." Castiel explained. "Besides, you don't need me to do this."

Dean felt like punching him as he continued to pulse down on Sam's chest. "Yes I _do_!" he screamed angrily. "Sam's dead—I just killed him! Why the hell does this always happen?!" he raged, his voice booming off the walls. "I die and then Sam dies and then I die—and then we're both _alive _and not doomed to Hell or anything and I…all I've done for the past few months was yell at him and…and…take out all my frustration on him…" he broke off with a scream and pounded down on Sam's chest with all his strength, "WAKE—UP!"

He broke off with a sob and his hand finally stilled. His head fell onto his brother's cold chest and he stayed there, exhausted. "Please, Sammy, please wake up, I need you to wake up, please please _please_. You can't be dead. You _can't_." his voice broke and he finally lapsed into silence.

He was almost too wrapped up in his own misery to realize that Sam's body was jerking slightly, and there was a sound—coughing. Sam was coughing. Dean's head jerked up quickly and he stared at his brother, who was sputtering and hacking up water all over the floor. In the back of his mind he knew that he should probably be doing something helpful, but he was frozen in place, his breath caught in his throat.

The coughing stopped after half a minute and Sam breathed in one shaky breath and then exhaled. His eyes opened, and he blinked hard, as though trying to clear his vision, and then instantly focused on Dean.

Dean still hadn't moved.

Sam's eyes narrowed, concerned. "D-dean?" he rasped softly, his voice scratchy. "Are you okay?"

Dean stared at him for a moment more and then started laughing. Hysterically. He dropped his face back down into his brother's chest to muffle the sound.

Sam's eyes widened, confused. "Dean?"

Dean didn't answer, and as he laughed the tears that poured out of his eyes mingled with the water that had soaked through his brother's shirt.

Sam breathed in again gratefully. His throat _burned_, but at least he could breathe. He slowly raised his right hand and rested it gently on Dean's back. "Dean…" he said softly, careful not to irritate his damaged throat, "Dean…everything's alright. I'm fine. Really."

Dean shook his head and pushed himself up slowly until he was sitting beside his brother. "I just _killed you_, Sam." He said, still laughing, although the tears pouring down his face were enough for Sam to see that nothing was really funny, "And the first thing _you _do, with your scratched up voice, is ask _me _if _I'm _okay?"

Sam sighed. "Dean…"

Dean's face instantly fell into a solemn mask of pain and he studied his brother intently. "Sam, I am _so sorry_—"

Sam made a face. "Stop it." He said reproachfully, "Stop apologizing. I know you didn't _want_ to kill me—"

"But that doesn't change anything, Sam. I _drowned you_. In a bathtub!"

Sam frowned. "Yes. And I'm assuming you drowned me because you knew that you had a chance of reviving me if you killed me that way. You know…as opposed to just shooting me in the head."

Dean's eyes fell to the floor. "Yes."

"So that was your plan, was it? Drowning me?" Sam muttered sympathetically. "No wonder you looked so awful when we walked back to the car." He paused. "Did it work?"

Dean sighed. "Yes. Only because Castiel showed up at the last possible second and killed the demon—"

"Castiel?" Sam broke in. "Really?"

"I'm going to kill him one of these days." Dean muttered.

"Dean!" Sam said severely, "He's an _angel_."

"And he's also got really rotten timing." Dean ranted. "Did he really have to wait until you were…dead…and I was pinned against the wall to intervene?"

"At least he showed up." Sam said reluctantly. He looked around, seeming to take in his surroundings for the first time. "Where are we, by the way?"

"Uh…" Dean muttered. "In a house…somewhere."

Sam smiled slightly. "Right. Well, we'd better leave before someone finds us here."

Dean scrutinized him. "Can you walk?" he asked softly.

Sam shrugged, and then winced. "Probably not _well_."

Dean nodded. "I'll help you…how many ribs did I break?"

"Maybe two." Sam admitted.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing already! There's nothing to apologize for!"

Dean grinned. "Sorry."

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned. "Alright, let's get out of here…and once we're in the car you are going to tell me _everything_."

Dean screwed up his face in mock horror. "You'll get the seats all wet!"

"Tough." Sam smirked. "That's your fault."

Dean smirked back. "Sorry."

"Would you stop that!"

**The End.**

**Congratulations! You made the right choices and saved Sam. Please leave me a REVIEW and let me know what you thought about this interactive story and the choices you made. Go ahead and start again at the beginning and try to make different choices in order to find the other two happy endings! Good luck!**

**Chapter Fifteen**

"It's too risky." Dean said finally, shaking his head. "You wouldn't know what was going on and…it's just far too risky."

Sam frowned. "Dean…what else are we going to do?"

"I don't know." Dean said heavily. "But I'm not going to risk your life."

"I thought my life was already at risk?" Sam protested.

Dean scowled. "You know what I mean, Sam. What I had in mind…it was too dangerous."

"Fine." Sam said, deciding not to argue. "So what's the new plan?"

Dean shrugged. "Guns?"

"Cute, Dean." Sam muttered.

Dean sighed and then ran a hand over his face as he thought. "We have to get out of here." He said finally. "We'll drive until we have cell phone service and then we can contact Bobby…and _Ruby_, and Castiel—wherever the hell he is—and maybe they can help us."

"Are we going to get that far?" Sam pressed. "Won't whatever's after us stop us before we can get help?"

Dean turned and started walking back up the path toward the car, ignoring the question.

Sam rolled his eyes, frustrated, and walked quickly to catch up with his older brother. "Dean…"

"Not now, Sam." Dean shot back, walking faster.

Sam frowned and lapsed into silence. They made it back to the Impala in record time—and stopped. Someone was leaning against the hood, facing the other way.

"Ah—there you two are." The man said, and stepped away from the car. His whole body was nothing but shadows and darkness as he turned to face them. Sam felt himself shiver as though cold air had been pumped through his veins.

Dean stepped in front of Sam and drew his gun. "Stay back." He shouted warningly.

The demon smiled. "Hello, Dean. Long time no see. How have you been doing since Hell?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Do I know you?" he demanded icily.

"We met briefly—you were torturing some poor soul, and I stopped to watch."

Dean's whole body tensed instantly and his breath caught in his throat.

The demon smiled, pleased with his reaction. "I was quite impressed with what I saw."

Sam scowled and stepped out from behind Dean. There was no way he was going to just let his brother protect _him_ while this thing played with his mind. "What do you want?" he demanded angrily.

The demon stared at him. "Hello, Sam." He said pleasantly. "Dean already knows what I want…and he refused to cooperate. I'm sorry to say that he ran away from me…I was the cause of your long drive today, you see."

Sam's face hardened. "You didn't answer my question." He said darkly.

"Don't worry, all will be explained soon enough." He said. "Dean…have you reconsidered?"

"I'm _not _going to do it." Dean hissed, shaking.

"Oh, alright then." The demon said, disappointed. "I just wanted to be sure. But you're still going to do it, you know."

"Do what?!" Sam growled. "Would you mind _not _talking in riddles?"

The demon smiled. "If you insist…I asked Dean to kill you, Sam. And he will."

Sam blinked.

"_No I won't_!" Dean hissed.

"Okay." The demon said, grinning. "By the way, Dean…how's your tattoo?" he disappeared without another word.

Sam and Dean stared at the spot it had vanished from.

"Okay, what's going on?" Sam demanded hurriedly. "There's no way any demon would give up that easily."

Dean ignored him, busy unbuttoning his shirt. His hands stilled, and his mouth fell open. "_Shit_…" he breathed.

Sam frowned. "Dean, what—"

"Sam…" Dean choked, his voice horrified. "My tattoo's gone."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "What?! That's impossible!"

Dean instantly threw his gun as far away from him as he could and then tossed Sam the keys to the Impala. "Drive, Sam." He ordered, hurriedly finding and discarding all the other knives on his person.

Sam's fingers wrapped around the keys reluctantly. "Dean…"

"Get out of here!" Dean yelled harshly, stepping away from him. "He's going to possess me—he's going to make me kill you!"

Sam winced. "Dean, there's no way your tattoo could just _vanish_. It has to be an illusion—"

"He must have gotten it off somehow." Dean said, shaking his head.

"Dean…that's _impossible_." Sam said exasperatedly through clenched teeth. "That was the point of the tattoo—so that anything supernatural _couldn't _mess with us. It can't—"

"Sam, for once, just believe that I'm right, okay? Just because I'm not a psychic freak like you doesn't mean I can't be right! Why are you _still here_?!"

Sam winced at Dean's harsh words but didn't move. "I'm not leaving."

"Go away! Drive as far as you can _away from me_! You can have Ruby try to find me tomorrow, when you're not in danger!"

Sam folded his arms over his chest and glared at him. "I'm _not _leaving you here alone, Dean."

Dean laughed. "Sam—you and Ruby spent _four months _all nice and cozy without me while I was alone in agony for _forty years_ in Hell. I doubt one more night in a _forest_ is going to make much of a difference."

Sam flinched. "Dean—"

"Get out of here!" Dean yelled furiously. "Just _leave_! It's what you always do anyway!"

Sam pressed his lips together and then walked slowly toward the Impala. He yanked open the driver's side door and then turned back to his brother, who hadn't moved. "I'll be back in half an hour." He said coldly.

"Sam…" Dean called hesitantly.

Sam looked at him.

"You know…you know I just said those things so you'd leave, right?" he said softly.

Sam stared back. "Sure." He said. He tried to smile, but the hurt shone through. "Half an hour." He said again, and got in the car.

He made it ten miles down the road before he had to pull over, long overdue tears threatening to make him a danger to traffic. He sat in the car, his long arms wrapped around the steering wheel as he tried to determine the truth in what his brother had said. It was obvious that Dean didn't want to mean any of that, but the anger, the _hate_, in his brother's eyes was all painfully real—all of it directed right at him.

His brother hated him, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not. Sam wasn't quite sure how to react to that.

His phone rang suddenly, and he lifted his head off the steering wheel to see who was calling—_Dean_. Sam frowned. "Hello?"

"Sam." Dean's voice was breathless with fear. "Sam, I was wrong. My tattoo is fine, it must have been an illusion before. You need to get back here—_now_."

Sam sighed. "Dean…about what you said earlier…"

"I know Sammy, I'm so sorry I said all that. We need to talk later, okay? We'll have a major chick-flick moment just for you, but first I need you to get back here. Please." He begged.

Sam heard the genuine worry in his brother's voice and sighed in relief. _Maybe things weren't so bad after all..._ "Okay, I'm about ten miles out. I'll—" he paused. He had heard something.

"Sammy?" Dean jumped in worriedly, "What is it?"

There was a noise in the car…but it was soft. Sam reached out and turned the car off.

Something was ticking.

His eyes widened. "Oh no…" he whispered. "The car."

"What?" Dean asked frantically, "What about the car?"

Sam grabbed onto his door handle and tried to open the door and get out—but the door was stuck. He reached toward the passenger side door, but it was stuck too. _The demon was holding them shut_.

"Sam, answer me! What about the damn car?"

"The doors are stuck." Sam said softly, realizing what was about to happen. _The demon tricked us._ "And…and something's ticking."

"W-what?" Dean choked, horrified.

Sam reached underneath his seat. Nothing. He reached under the passenger seat—and paused. His hand curled around a small box.

He pulled it out.

"Sam, _get out of the car_!" Dean shouted through the phone.

"I can't, Dean. I tried." Sam said, managing to keep his voice calm. "And…well, I found it…you wouldn't happen to know how to disarm a bomb, would you?"

"Oh God…" Dean whispered, dismayed. "Sam…I made you go…I made you get in the car—I've killed you just like he said I would."

"Dean, it's okay." Sam said, forcing himself not to panic. It wasn't hard, really. He felt unnaturally calm, especially since the bomb had begun ticking faster. "I'm not dead yet. And neither of us knew that he had tampered with the car. It's not your fault."

"I should have listened to you." Dean whispered. "And I shouldn't have yelled…I always yell at you lately, don't I?"

"No you don't." Sam said calmly, and then laughed. "Well, I guess you do sometimes. But I don't really care what you _say _to me, Dean. I'm just glad you're out of Hell." He fumbled with the box, managing to flip the cover up. There was a conglomeration of wires inside, far too complicated for him to even attempt disarming it even if he had a manual sitting beside him.

And there was a timer—nine seconds.

"God, Sammy, I'm so sorry."

00:08

"This isn't your fault." Sam said, popping in a tape so that he didn't have to hear the ticking. Metallica instantly blared through the speakers and he turned the volume down low. "I'm sorry about the Impala…" he muttered, sitting the bomb down on the passenger seat so that he wouldn't see the numbers.

00:06

"I don't care about the damn car!" Dean shouted.

00:05

"I know." Sam muttered.

00:04

"I should have listened to you more…" Dean moaned, internally kicking himself, "You were always trying to explain things, and I…I never listened."

00:03

"I shouldn't have kept things from you." Sam countered.

00:02

"I'm sorry."

00:01

"Me too." Sam said softly. "Dean—"

00:00

**The End.**

**Sam's dead...and Dean's never going to forgive himself. The bad guys win—yuck. Want to try again and find a happier ending? Either go back to Chapter Seven and pick the other option or start again from the beginning. **

**Chapter Sixteen**

Dean fired. The girl's head snapped back from the force of the bullet and she exploded into a cloud of dust.

Sam stared in shock. "Dean!"

Dean lowered the gun slowly, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. "We have to get out of here, Sam—Now." He bent down and helped to ease Sam's arm over his shoulder so that he could help him up. "Are you okay?"

Sam winced. "I'm fine." He said dismissively. "Dean, what was she saying? Who asked you to do something, and what did that person ask you to do?"

"Wasn't a person, Sammy…" Dean muttered darkly. "Ready? One, two, three—" he helped Sam to his feet, relieved that Sam was able to hold most of his own weight.

Sam gritted his teeth but pushed the pain and nausea down. "Not a person? So it was a demon?" he demanded.

Dean hesitated. "Might be." He hedged. "Might not. Who knows?"

"You do." Sam pointed out.

"Yes…and you're not supposed to."

"Is that why you've been keeping me in the dark?"

"It _is_ the middle of the night, Sammy."

"Not funny. You know what I mean." Sam growled.

"Come on." Dean said softly, "We have to leave." He started walking slowly toward the road with Sam clinging to his arm for support.

"I can walk by myself, you know." Sam said after a few minutes of this.

"Humor me." Dean said simply. "You can barely keep your eyes open, and I don't want you walking into trees. Besides, if you fall and break something else that will make it harder for us to escape."

"How exactly do you plan to escape? Walking? We don't have a car, Dean."

Dean winced. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for reminding me." He said bitterly. "Actually I figured that once we reach the road we could just lie you down across it and then wait for a car. You're tall enough to make a pretty good roadblock."

"Hitchhiking, then?" Sam asked, reading between the absurd lines.

"Yep. You got a better idea?"

"Nope."

"Great." Dean muttered unconvincingly. "That's sure to work."

They kept walking—it was a slow process, but they reached the road quickly. That in itself was a surprise. "I can't believe it…" Dean muttered. "We actually made it out of the woods."

"I don't like it." Sam said suspiciously. "You just killed some type of messenger girl back there Dean…surely the demon should have come after us by now."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe we got lucky."

"We _never _get lucky."

"Yeah…what are the chances a car would come by at…" he glanced at his watch, "Three a.m.?"

Sam laughed bleakly. "Exactly."

They had barely been sitting on the side of the road for five minutes when they heard a car speeding toward them. "Imagine that…" Dean muttered with a grin, jumping up. He ran into the middle of the road, waving his arms.

Sam almost didn't think that it was going to stop, but the car came to a screeching halt a few meters in front of his brother.

"Hello there…do you need some help?" a man's voice asked smoothly from inside the vehicle. Sam sighed in relief. Maybe luck was on their side. He listened absentmindedly while Dean gave him some story about crashing their car—which was truer than most of the stories they usually told—leaving out the parts about the ghost girl, of course.

The man instantly offered to give them a ride to the nearest hospital. Sam found himself flitting in and out of consciousness, and the next thing he knew he was laying on the backseat of a moving vehicle.

He could hear Dean and the man laughing about something. There was music playing softly—Highway to Hell. Sam cringed, and an uneasy feeling came over him, but he was so _tired._ He shut his eyes again, but it was harder to fall asleep.

"Hey…" Dean was saying. "Would you mind slowing down? Just a little."

The man laughed. "Oh come on, Dean. You seem like a man who'd enjoy really fast cars."

"Yeah, I do." Dean replied instantly, "It's just that it's making me nervous to go this fast…in the mountains. Especially when…"

"Ohh. I see." The man said with a laugh. "You're nervous that _I'm _the one driving fast. You don't trust my driving."

"Oh no, that's not it at all, you seem to be a really good driver, and you've been so helpful." Dean said calmly. "I'm just…a bit nervous I suppose…since I just crashed _my _car, you know."

"I understand. That's a real shame." The man agreed. "You don't find cars like that these days."

"No." Dean agreed solemnly.

"You know what is an even bigger shame?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"That you had to go and kill my messenger." The man said, keeping the same, friendly tone he had used the rest of the time. "That really was uncalled for, you know. She was only following my orders."

There was a long, tense pause. "_Your _messenger?" Dean said tensely. The car seemed to pick up speed.

"Yes. I sent her to help you out with your…assignment."

Dean's eyes widened as he realized the danger they were in. "You're the one—"

"Yes. I gave you an order…you failed. Now I'm carrying it out myself." He said pleasantly. The car sped up again, but Sam was too out of it to even feel worried, let alone comprehend what he was hearing.

"Stop the car." Dean demanded.

"I will. Soon." The man replied soothingly. "In fact, I believe it's time that we parted. It's been nice talking to you Dean, really." There was a brief sound, like smoke escaping through an open window.

Dean shouted something, but Sam was already drifting back into blissful unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was the crunch of a guardrail…

**The End. **

**Sorry, Sam's dead. If you want to try again to find a happy ending for the boys, either turn back to Chapter 10 or start over at the beginning. **

**Chapter Seventeen**

Dean lowered his gun with a scowl. "Fine…" he spat. "I'll play nice."

The girl grinned. "What? You can't kill a sweet little girl?"

"_No_." Dean disagreed, "I just have a feeling that killing the messenger wouldn't help the situation any."

"Well, at least you have _some _common sense. Though you lack basically every other survival trait." She said observantly, running her left foot back and forth in the dirt.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" he pressed.

"Yeah…but how many times have you died? Or have you lost count?"

Dean decided to ignore that comment. "Why don't you just _leave_." He said, "If your demon boss wants to come kill us, he can do it himself."

She smirked. "He doesn't want to kill _you_, Dean…"

Dean gritted his teeth.

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh come _on_…" he muttered angrily, as he realized some of what was going on.

Dean glanced at him. "What?"

"Why is it that _everyone _seems to want me dead? Am I on the top of everyone's hit list??"

Dean winced.

"Well, Sammy…" the girl said with a smirk, "It's probably because you're a pretty big threat to the demonic world…"

"Oh? Is _that_ it?" Sam demanded bitterly. "Because if that was _really_ the case, why exactly do _angels _want me dead as well?"

"Let me rephrase my last statement." The girl said, "You are a threat to _everyone._"

"Great." Sam said. "That's wonderful."

"Okay, that's enough." Dean broke in quickly, and glared at the girl, "Leave."

"Not yet." The girl said, "I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"Him."

Dean's eyes widened. "He's coming here??"

"He's already here." A man's voice said softly. Dean spun around and saw a shadowy figure standing a few feet behind them. He hadn't even heard him approach.

"You." Dean spat, worry spreading through his body. _Not Sam…_

"Hello, Dean. _You _didn't do what I asked you to." The man said tauntingly.

"Nope." Dean said, stepping in front of Sam. "And I'm not going to."

He laughed. "Why not? It's not very hard—all I asked you to do was kill your brother."

Sam tensed instantly, and suddenly everything made sense. Dean's easily agitated mood, the long car ride to nowhere, the secrecy, the wreck—

"I even provided the means, since you were so…unwilling." The demon continued, and placed a hand on the ghost girl's head. "Little Rose here helped you wreck your car—all you had to do was leave Sam inside and wait for the explosion."

"He pulled him out." Rose whined.

"Yes, I know." The demon said. "But I'm not worried—I planned ahead. This outcome will be much more…satisfying."

Sam realized that something bad was going to happen and hurriedly began climbing to his feet. It hurt a lot more than he anticipated, and his head spun. Dean glanced at him worriedly. "Sammy, just get down—"

"'m fine." Sam said unconvincingly. He knew he was hurt badly, but he wasn't about to sit helplessly on the ground while this demon toyed with them.

"Of course he is." The demon purred. "That is quite excellent. Dean…I'd like to draw your attention to a…personal weakness of yours."

"And what is that?" Dean asked, irritated.

"Women."

Dean blinked, surprised. "What?"

"You like women. Or, more specifically, sex."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Do you have a point with this?" he scowled.

"Yes. Specifically this: you should be more careful with who you sleep with."

"I think you should mind your own damn business—"

"Do you recall the fiery redhead that you…had a little fun with last night? You know…the one who knocked down as many shots as you at the bar and then beat you at pool before you coaxed her back to your hotel room?"

Dean's eyes widened. "How did you—"

"She works for me. Her real name's Celeste. It can be…quite an advantage, having a human around. For instance, she was able to drug you and burn a sliver off of your tattoo…"

"What?!" Dean and Sam yelled.

"I know!" the demon exclaimed excitedly. "I couldn't touch it, but _she_, a mere _human_ _girl_…was able to get the job done."

Dean quickly opened his shirt and peered down with a sinking feeling in his chest. He was right—there was a small burn line severing one section of the symbol. "I should have felt that…" he choked, horrified at the way things had turned against them.

"Celeste is…very good at what she does." The demon said with a grin. "And now, we can have some fun."

"Sammy…" Dean muttered desperately, stepping away from his brother. "_Run_. You know what he's going to do."

The demon scoffed. "Dean…Sam _can't _run, remember? He was just badly hurt in a car accident. He's not going anywhere."

Dean pulled off his gun and tossed it at Sam. "Keep this away from me." He said frantically.

"Showtime." The demon hissed, and then vanished.

"Sammy—" Dean froze, his anxious eyes locked on Sam's—and then his expression relaxed. "Much better." He said.

Sam gritted his teeth and backed up a few shaky steps. The demon was right—he wasn't going to be running anywhere with his injuries. _This was really bad…_

"Well _Sammy_…" Dean's face said with a cocky grin, I guess it's just you and me, now. Are you ready for some fun?" he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Sam in a few short moments.

Sam automatically held his gun up defensively in front of him.

The demon grinned. "Come now, Sam…you wouldn't shoot _me_…I'm your brother."

"Like hell you are." Sam spat. "Get out of him."

His grin widened. "Why should I do that? I'm holding all the cards." Without warning, he lunged forward, punching Sam as hard as he could in the face.

Sam, barely able to stand before, felt himself falling backwards instantly. He hit the ground with a thud and his broken ribs shot daggers of pain through his body. He was pretty sure that he had broken other bones in the crash as well—and their new piercing pain made him squeeze his eyes shut.

He opened them just in time to see Dean's body attacking again—and he rolled hurriedly to the side. The attack missed him by inches. "Hold _still_, Sammy!" Dean shrieked, walking closer—

When he was close enough, Sam lunged up and grabbed onto Dean's broken left arm. He winced at Dean's scream of agony—_It's not Dean it's not Dean_—and then channeled all his strength into one swift kick to his brother's stomach.

Dean lost his balance and fell, but he was up again in less than a second. He grinned. "This is _pitiful_." The demon scoffed with his brother's mouth, "Where's the challenge? Oh, I know…" he trailed off and then pulled something out of Dean's pocket. A blade glinted in the moonlight. "Here…this knife kills demons, right? Course, it would kill Dean too, but at least it makes things slightly more challenging for _me_."

Sam caught the knife and stared down at it. He couldn't use it on Dean, that would kill him—

His eyes widened slightly as a new thought raced through him. _Of course! Why didn't I think of it before—just because it's Dean?_

The demon interrupted his thoughts as it crashed down upon him and began punching him as fast as he could with one good arm. Sam felt Dean's fist hitting every part of his body—head, chest, arms, ribs—and he couldn't do anything about it. Finally he used all his strength to sweep his foot out across Dean's ankles—

The punches stopped instantly as Dean fell to the ground beside him. His brother's face scowled. "Why won't you just use the damn knife?!" he shrieked. "You self sacrificing Winchesters make me _sick_!"

"I'm n-not killing Dean." Sam hissed, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Then you _die_, freak." He said, climbing back to his feet.

"No." Sam said, raising one hand and concentrating. "You do." He felt the power begin flowing through his body and concentrated harder, forcing it out through his fingertips. This was different than the other times, though—his body was already weakened. He felt himself shaking as he kept the power flowing out of him.

"No!" the demon shrieked. "You can't—do this—" he choked angrily, black smoke billowing slowly out of his mouth, "You're already—hurt—"

Sam felt his head spinning wildly and something trickled out of his nose and mouth—blood? He pushed harder, barely even able to see, motivated by the dooming truth that if he stopped, he and Dean were both dead.

"Stop!" the demon shrieked, reaching weakly toward him. Smoke poured heavily out of his mouth now, and Sam forced himself to remain conscious just a little bit longer, just until he was finished—

Dean's body slumped to the ground.

The flow of energy stopped—whether he was finished or simply drained Sam didn't care—and he fell back on the ground, exhausted. He drifted away—

"Sam?!" Dean's voice shouted, and Sam realized that someone was kneeling over him. He moaned—couldn't he just sleep for a _few minutes_?

"Sammy, wake up—don't do this to me—Sam?!"

Sam felt himself becoming more aware. Dean sounded frantic—that was never good. He tried to mumble that he was fine, and that Dean shouldn't worry, but he couldn't manage to make his lips move. _I just want to sleep…_ He felt anxious fingers press firmly against his neck.

"Thank God." Dean breathed. "Sammy? Can you hear me?"

_Yes, damn it. Yes I can hear you, I'm not deaf. I'm fine—let me sleep._

"Come on, Sammy. You gotta give me something here." Dean's pleading voice seemed almost hysterical now, "I—you're hurt _bad_, Sam. _So bad_. You have to tell me what hurts so that I can fix you up, because we're in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night and I don't have a _car _to get you to the hospital." He ranted frantically. "Sammy _please_."

Sam frowned. He concentrated hard, and after a few long seconds he managed to crack his eyes open.

"Sam!" Dean gasped instantly, bending down closer to him.

Sam gritted his teeth. "S-stop hovering, Dean." He whispered.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and his face instantly clouded. "Sammy, I'm so sorry—what hurts?"

_What doesn't hurt? _"Not sure." He mumbled. "Everything." He felt his eyes drifting shut again.

"Don't go back to sleep." Dean said hurriedly, grabbing onto Sam's arm gently. "You need to stay awake!"

Sam sighed, completely exhausted. "Not happening, bro." He muttered instead, allowing his eyes to slide shut. "Sorry…"

He heard Dean yell something else, but he was already drifting away to blissful unconsciousness.

Sam woke up to an annoying beeping noise. He was lying on something soft—that didn't make sense, he was in a forest—

He opened his eyes. _Oh…another hospital…_ The blinds were open, casting long slants of light across his bed. There was a clock on the wall that proclaimed it was 3:00, but that didn't really help with what day it was. He glanced to the side, searching—

Dean was there, slumped in a small, uncomfortable chair, asleep. Sam rolled his eyes and smiled slightly before turning to his other side. Yep…there was the source of the annoying beeping…

He carefully raised one hand up to his face to where he knew the oxygen mask would be and tugged it off gently, careful not to make any sudden movements that might wake Dean up. According to the dark circles under his eyes, his brother hadn't slept in far too long. The least he could do was give him a few more minutes of rest. He laid back and stared out the window.

A half an hour later, Dean shifted in his chair.

Sam looked at him, and saw that his eyes were open and he was staring into the hallway. He grinned. "Finally awake?"

Dean jolted up in his seat and his eyes snapped to his brother. "Sam!" he gasped. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes." Sam replied, wincing at how scratchy his voice sounded.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Sam shrugged. "You looked really tired." He admitted. "How long have I been out?"

Dean ran a hand over his face, "Five days."

Sam's eyes widened. "_Five days_?!"

"You were hurt really badly, Sammy. For a while…they weren't sure if you were going to make it." He said quietly. "You kept crashing…"

"Oh." Sam said, unsure of what to say. He decided to change the subject, "How did we get here?"

Dean shrugged. "I—carried you up to the road and then stood in the middle of it until a car came."

"Scared them, did you?"

"Yeah, pretty much. But they gave us a lift to the hospital." He said, obviously grateful.

Sam nodded. "That's good."

Dean nodded, and bit his lip, obviously thinking about something.

Sam knew that look from experience. "You don't remember what happened, do you?" he said simply.

Dean glanced at him. "…No." he said guiltily. "I just remember waking up and you were…" he trailed off, unable to finish. "What did I do, Sammy?"

Sam scowled. "_You _didn't, Dean. The demon did."

Dean looked away, unable to meet Sam's eyes. "Well?"

Sam sighed. "Nothing much. He punched me…a lot. Which didn't help my other injuries."

"Why didn't you just shoot him?" Dean demanded.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "I'm not even going to dignify that question with an answer." He said simply, and went on. "Then he threw the knife at me and told me to use it on him to make the fight more interesting…"

"You didn't use it?"

Sam frowned. "I wasn't going to _kill you_, Dean." He said, and then looked away. "So I…used my powers instead."

Silence.

"Sam…" Dean finally said.

"What?" Sam said warily, prepared for the yelling that was to come.

"You used your powers…on _me_?"

Sam winced. "Yeah…I didn't actually think of doing it for awhile into the fight because…well…I've never actually thought about having to use that on _you_, but it worked. You lived and the demon's gone."

"You could have _died_." Dean said.

Sam's eyes narrowed in confusion. _Where was the yelling? _"Maybe…but I didn't." he finally said, still looking away.

There was another pause. "Thanks." Dean said finally.

_What the Hell?! _Sam's head snapped up and he finally met Dean's gaze. "What?" he blurted out.

Dean winced. "I…I know I'm not always supportive of you using your powers, Sam…" he said, "I'm sorry for that, _really_. I guess I just can't seem to get over the fact that they're demonic…you know…after spending so much time in Hell I'm freaked by that."

Sam nodded, accepting his words for what they were worth. "I know."

"But thanks…for saving me." Dean said with a small smile.

Sam returned it. "Anytime."

"Just don't _ever _nearly kill yourself like that again." Dean continued firmly. "Especially trying to save me."

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned. "Whatever, Dean." He said, looking away. It was as close to a promise as he was willing to get.

"That didn't sound sincere at all." Dean said, echoing his thoughts.

"If you say so."

"Sam…"

Sam grinned and looked back at him. "Fine…I'll make you a deal. I'll stop putting myself in danger trying to save you if you stop putting yourself in danger trying to save me."

Dean stared at him for a moment, and then returned his grin. "Okay, point taken."

"Thank you." Sam said smugly.

"I still don't like it, though."

"Too bad. Now go to a nearby hotel and get some sleep before I have the nurses throw you out."

Dean grinned. "The nurses _love me_, Sammy…they never want me to leave."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine…sit in the uncomfortable chair for as long as you want. I don't care." He turned and looked back out the window.

Dean sat there for a few more minutes and then sighed. "You sure you're fine Sammy?"

Sam grinned. "Get out of here, Dean."

**The End. **

**Congratulations, you managed to keep Sam alive (it's hard work, isn't it?) Please leave me a REVIEW and let me know what choices you made and whether you enjoyed this interactive story. Feel free to try to find the other two happy endings by going back to the beginning and making different choices. Good luck!**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Dean pulled out his shotgun. "Stay away from Sam." He hissed through his teeth.

The man sighed. "Why? You're ruining all the _fun_, Dean."

Dean fired. The demon's head snapped back slightly and then slowly shifted back again.

"Let me make this absolutely clear." The demon said coldly. "You. Can't. Kill. Me."

"That's open to debate." Dean snarled.

"No." he said simply, glaring. "You know it's true, Winchester. You're just stalling for time. It won't help." He smiled. "Now…are you ready to kill Sam?"

Dean brought the shotgun up again and fired a second time. The demon reached up and easily deflected the bullet. He smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What—"

"Well done, boy." The demon said eerily.

Dean's breath caught in his throat and he glanced down at Sam, afraid of what he would see.

Sam's eyes were wide open and he was gasping for air. There was blood spurting from his neck—where the bullet had found its mark. The bullet _Dean _had fired.

Dean dropped the gun and fell to his knees on the dirt beside his brother. "Sammy—_oh God_—Sam, I'm so sorry, I—"

Sam stared up at him, gasping for air as his eyes struggled to focus.

There was _so much blood_. Dean's hands hovered above his brother's body, trembling as his mind raced to find some solution. "It's okay, Sammy, it's okay, I've got this…" he muttered frantically. He pulled off his jacket and hurriedly pushed it against his brother's wound. "I'll fix this, Sammy, _I'm so sorry_…just keep your eyes open, okay? Look at me, Sam—Sam!"

Sam's eyes closed, and he exhaled.

He didn't breathe in again.

Dean froze, unable to move. "N-no…" he whispered, horrified.

"Well done, Dean." The demon said smugly. "I guess I'll see you around."

The demon disappeared.

Dean didn't even notice. He stared down at his brother's motionless body, unable to comprehend what had just happened—what _he _had just done.

He had killed Sam.

**The End.**

**Well…Sam's dead. Guess playing with guns wasn't the best idea…but you can try again! :) Just go back to Chapter 12 and pick the other option. **

**Chapter Nineteen**

"No one's severing _anything_." Dean spat angrily, aware that Sam's grip around his wrist had tightened significantly. "I'm _not _going to kill Sam."

The demon shrugged. "Fine. I'll just send you to Hell then…and kill Sam myself once you're suffering in torment for all eternity."

"No!" Sam yelled weakly, trying to sit up again.

Dean pushed his brother back down. "Damn it, Sammy, don't move. You're hurt—"

"He's dying, actually…" the demon interjected. "I have a pretty good eye for that kind of thing…he won't last another hour."

Dean growled. "Shut up!"

"It's _true_. There's no reason to get upset. Now are you ready to go to Hell, or are you going to end your brother's miserable life? You could think of it as a mercy killing, you know. He has to be in a lot of pain right now."

"Dean…" Sam whispered pleadingly.

"_No_, Sam!" Dean interrupted, aware of what Sam was about to say. "I'm _not _killing you! You're going to be fine."

"Right." The demon said with a smile. "Well, I see you've made your decision. A poor one, might I add."

Dean glared at him but didn't say anything.

Sam stared helplessly. "No…" he muttered, his head spinning as he tried to push his pain away and focus. "No, Dean, you can't—"

"Sam…it's okay." Dean said softly, but his eyes betrayed him. He was terrified.

The demon sighed. "Your bedside manner is severely lacking, Dean." He said flatly. "And I'm sure that your brother is not fooled in the slightest."

Dean winced. "Sammy…"

"Time to go." The demon said suddenly, and raised his hand out—

Sam froze. His breath caught in his throat as the memories he had worked so hard to bury for the last six months resurfaced. He remembered _that night _in full detail. Everything came rushing back to him—

"NO!" he yelled frantically as a golden light swept over them—and then the light faded too quickly, leaving his vision spotted. He was sitting up on the forest floor and Dean was lying beside him, motionless. _No no no no no_

"What did you _do_?!!" the demon shrieked angrily, snapping Sam's attention back.

Sam's eyes shifted up to look at it, shocked. "Me?" he choked.

Dean groaned and pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking around groggily. "S-sam?"

Sam's breath caught in his throat. _Dean wasn't dead—_

"How did you stop me?!" the demon yelled, walking forward until he was standing over Sam. "Answer me! How? Why can't I kill you?? Why _you_?"

It clicked. Sam recognized what he had missed in the darkness of the cave, and he put together everything—the now childish voice, the desire to have him dead, the desire for Dean to be back in Hell, the golden light—

"You're Lilith." He said quietly, staring at the shadowy shape of a man—the purposely shadowy shape of a man. _That was her cover, so Dean wouldn't figure it out…_

There was a small pause and then the figure straightened up and laughed—a distinctly feminine laugh. "Very good, Sammy."

Sam felt white hot rage flow through him as she spoke. He glanced at Dean, but Dean was kneeling on the ground, his mouth slightly open in a daze, staring at nothing. He wasn't going to be any help right now.

Before Sam could speak, Lilith reached down and grabbed his shoulder and pulled—hard. She dragged him forward toward the hole, away from Dean. "You didn't answer my question." She spat darkly. "_How did you stop me_?"

Sam gritted his teeth together in pain as all the broken bones in his body ground against one another as she pulled him along. A scream escaped his lips.

"Answer me!" she shrieked, throwing him roughly down on the ground.

Sam breathed through his teeth, the anguishing pain making him gasp for breath.

"ANSWER ME!" she screamed, kicking him with all her strength.

Sam clenched his teeth together as he heard something else snap, and he glared at her with all his strength. "Go to Hell!" he spat venomously.

She screamed and kicked him again, and Sam realized that he was lying right next to the open hole of the cave. "I can destroy _anyone else _I want but YOU!" she shrieked, her face distorted in fury, "WHY? WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT _YOU_?"

Sam couldn't even speak. He glared at her with every ounce of strength he had left.

She knelt down until she was right next to him, and gripped two hands on either side of his face, holding him still as she forced him to look at her. When she spoke, her voice was a hiss. "You don't even know what you just did, do you?"

Sam didn't answer. Her hands were hard, colder than ice. Her touch made him nauseated as he remembered the last time she had touched him—the night she killed Dean. The sight of his brother's shredded body flashed in front of his eyes—

She sensed his inattention and gripped his face tighter, and Sam felt her nails drawing blood. "You just stopped me from dragging your brother's soul back to Hell. _How??_"

Sam stared up at her, suddenly confused. _I did that? _

She analyzed the look on his face. "You don't even _know_. You don't know what you did or how you did it." She hissed in disgust. "Pathetic."

She released his face and Sam's head slammed back into the dirt. He breathed out shakily, still glaring at her. She was going to kill him—and he wasn't going to give her any satisfaction from that.

She stood up slowly, contemplating her next move, and sighed in defeat. "You're useless to me…and you're _wrong._" She spat, "I _can _kill you…because you're nothing but a worthless human sack of bone and tissue."

Sam stared back fiercely, his hands clenched at his sides. She was going to kick him back down into the cave—and he would die upon impact. There was no way he could survive something like that now.

"Bye Sammy." She spat, and stepped forward.

There was a yell and Dean slammed into her from behind. She shrieked in anger and twisted her body, throwing him off quickly. He landed face down in the dirt beside Sam.

She sneered down at them. "Nice try, _Dean_. Now…you _both _die."

"No…" Dean said firmly, glaring up at her "Just _you_, bitch."

The knife was sticking out of her back, wedged in completely. Her eyes widened. "NO—" she exploded in a cloud of black smoke, showering them both with it.

For a few moments, there was only silence.

Dean groaned. "Sammy…" he muttered, and crawled over to his brother's side. "Sammy—"

"I'm okay." Sam lied weakly. He stared at his brother, taking in the pallor of his skin and the fact that he didn't seem able to move right. "Dean…what happened to you? I thought…" he trailed off. _I thought you were dead…_

Dean breathed in shakily. "I…I'm not sure." He said, "But it felt like my soul was ripped out of my body and then thrust back in."

Sam sighed, finally understanding what Lilith had meant. "Oh…" he said, closing his eyes, "I think that was me."

"Sam, keep your eyes open!" Dean demanded hurriedly. "I have to get you to a hospital."

Sam opened his eyes and stared at his brother. "We're miles from the car, Dean."

"You're not going to _die_, Sam." Dean said loudly, though he was barely able to keep his eyes open himself. "I…I'll…" he trailed off, unsure of what to even say.

"Dean…I can't even move." He said softly, "And you—what are you going to do, carry me? You look like you're about to pass out at any second."

Dean's throat tightened. "You're not dying _now_, Sam. Lilith is _dead_."

Sam sighed. "Ironic, isn't it?" he muttered with a small smile.

"No, not ironic." Dean said forcefully, "_Cruel_."

Sam winced. "Dean…"

"_Hello? Is anyone there?"_ Someone shouted somewhere nearby.

They froze. Dean glanced at Sam. "What _now_? Can we really have _that poor _of luck that something else is coming to kill us _now_?"

"Maybe…maybe they're just people?" Sam suggested.

Hope sparked in Dean's eyes. "You don't think…" muttered, and turned toward the sound, "Over here!" he shouted as loud as he could. "We're over here!"

"_Stay there!_" the voice shouted back. "_We're coming!"_

Dean's eyebrows raised. "Do you think that's a threat?" he muttered to Sam, laying his head back against the ground next to his brother.

Sam grinned. "I'd imagine not." He said weakly. "Do you think we got lucky?"

"Definitely not. We never get lucky."

"They don't sound threatening." Sam pointed out.

"They never do—and then they get all huge with red eyes and spiky teeth."

"You're rambling now."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe."

"There they are!" the voice shouted, much closer, and seconds later Sam and Dean were surrounded by—

An emergency medical team. With proper equipment.

Dean stared at them in shock. "You…"

"Everything's going to be fine." One of the doctors said, kneeling beside him. Most of the team had crowded around Sam and were already working frenziedly.

"But…how?" Dean muttered, confused. "How did you know we were here?"

She shrugged. "Some guy tipped us off. He ran in the hospital, told us exactly where you were, and then ran out again."

Dean shut his eyes. "Castiel…" he muttered.

"What?" she asked, worried.

"Nothing." Dean mumbled quietly. "My damn guardian angel has slow reflexes when it comes to emergencies."

Her eyebrows contracted with worry. "Sir…"

"I'm not crazy. I'm fine. Go work on my brother, he needs the most help right now." Dean said firmly, keeping his eyes closed. He _wanted _to stay awake. At least until he knew Sam was going to be alright, but the pull of exhaustion was too strong and he was swept off into unconsciousness. _We're both going to be okay._

**The End. **

**Congratulations, you made the right choices and kept Sam alive. Please leave a REVIEW for me, I'd love to hear what you thought about this interactive story. Feel free to try again and make other choices to find the other two happy endings!**


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